


Danny's Hardly Stable

by GothMoth



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Gore, Graphic Description, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Melting, Near Death Experiences, Self-Hatred, Serious Injuries, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-30 15:48:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20099683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothMoth/pseuds/GothMoth
Summary: Pain brings fear, but the pain is not what he fears.





	Danny's Hardly Stable

Danny rolls over in his covers only to snap his eyes open and gasp in pain. Promptly squeezing his arms around his chest, before moving to grip onto his arms. Curling in on himself and pulling his hands away to stare at them. Now everything hurt and he could see that his veins looked to be slightly fizzing. Wincing as he stiffly grabs the post of his bed to yank himself up, blankets getting shoved to the floor in the process, as he starts coughing. After the third or fourth cough, he pulls his hands to cup in front of his mouth, feeling sticky wetness.

But he doesn’t get to ponder on the sticky thick feel or acidic lemony saltwater smell of ectoplasm, as the world seems to tilt sideways then pitch forwards. Causing him to stagger and slam his face into the wall. Stepping back and spinning to face his door, clutching and almost stabbing into his throat as more painful coughs wracked him. Only getting one footstep towards the door before being overcome by a full-body spasm, making him hiss through clenched teeth as his jaw locks up. Before sharp biting pain prompts him to wrap an arm around his stomach, before slowly sinking down onto his knees. Tracing his other hand down the wall as he goes to curl up, coughing and sputtering out ectoplasm onto his bedroom floor all the while. 

Coughing and hacking some more before forcing himself to get back up and get out. Half dragging and half walking across his room, clutching onto everything he possibly can as he goes. He’d normally be bothered about getting ectoplasm on things but the only thing he could comprehend now was pain, shaking, and the fact that he was leaking. 

It takes a few swipes at his door handle to get the door open, leaving it smeared green. And falling back down, splashing into the pool of green around his feet, multiple times in the process.

He can tell using anything ghostly right now is a bad idea, so he leans against the hallway wall and then the stairway walls. Staggering down as quietly as he can, not caring or wanting to look at the messy trail he’s probably leaving behind and painfully aware of his parents' voices in the kitchen. 

Each step sending pain shooting through his stomach and rattling around in his chest. His core feeling like a drum being banged as hard as possible in time with his hammering heartbeat. The fact that his heart feels like it’s beating faster wouldn’t be so worrying if it wasn’t for the fact that it seemed to be beating faster than a normal, not half-dead, heart does. Danny has to grip the edge of the banister to keep from teetering over after the last step. It’s taking all of his energy just to stay upright, so the way his body waves back and forth is expected. But the world itself seems to also be waving around, and not in time with his body, which is making nausea bubble up inside his throat and his stomach squeeze; making the pain increase and something feels as if it shifted or squished. 

Moving one arm to clench his stomach and catching his parents fiddling with something rather erratically, out of the corner of his eyes. They look happy, why was his pain so often occurring at the same time as their happiness. 

Danny can’t help but stare into the kitchen, at the kitchen table, as he slowly manages enough steadiness to be able to walk the few feet to the door. He doesn’t know what the new invention is but, judging by how it’s lit up, it’s probably to blame for all of this mess. Thinking of messes makes him look down, cringing at the gory green mess. His shirt and pants are so soaked it’s almost as if they started out green, but the little slivers of blue, red or white gives the truth away; that, and the thick glowing stickiness. Lifting up one foot and softly putting it down, only to feel the squish of spilled ectoplasm in between his toes. Blinking at his elbow as he watches a droplet fall off slowly, making a little splash in the puddle around him. It’s almost depressing that his first thought is about how he’s happy there’s no red in it, since his parents will think it’s just some ghost they messed up. Rather than anything with human in it, because if there was red they might test it. This way, well, maybe they won’t even bother.

But it turns out, moving his head that much was a horrible decision. Making the world spin violently and his ears ring. Feeling panic bubble up in his chest, Danny staggers towards the door; just wanting to get out. Get anywhere else. Only getting two steps before his legs give out, knees slamming into each other, but by sheer luck, he manages to catch himself on the table. Feeling ectoplasm slug out of his mouth onto the floor, before the ringing becomes too much and he vomits; stars dancing in his eyes all the while. 

The act of vomiting seems to decrease the ringing but covers everything in a harsh static sound, barely hearing chairs scrape against floor, over it. 

Danny wheezes in an attempt to get up, only managing to slush more ectoplasm out of his mouth and making some bubble out of his nose. Shakily lifting his head only to find he has no clue what way is up and whether the door is above his head or directly in front of him. Gripping the table tighter to centre himself only for his fingers to slip off, the table made slick with ectoplasm. Chest and face slamming onto the floor and splashing up ectoplasm. Blinking his eyes rapidly and groaning as droplets splash up into his eyes. In a last-ditch effort to find some kind of protection, Danny grips the carpeting and pulls himself under the table. Or at least he assumes he did based on the slight darkness. 

Coughing and gagging on his own ectoplasm more, as something grabbing his ankle startles him. Jerking his head up and slamming it into, what he assumes is, the underside of the living room table. Making his vision nothing but a sea of black, grey, white and green spots. His gut tells him what he felt was probably one of his parents' hands. Well aware of the mess all over him and coating his face, Danny wraps his arms and hands around his face, in an attempt to hide the ectoplasm leaking out of him. Trying to curl up more but only able to move the one leg, as he’s too weak to fight the grip on his ankle. The movement making his stomach churn more. 

Squeezing his arms tighter around his head and making his vision seem to spark with electricity, as the slightly dimmed light returns to full brightness jarringly. Danny can’t help but whimper, resulting in another bout of coughs and his ribs feeling as if someone is smashing them with a baby rattle or rocks. 

Danny hardly pays attention to the slow speech he can hardly make out as the ectoplasm in his throat and nose bubbles and foams aggressively. 

“J....ac.....k......i..t......Da.....y....so......in.......hur..t.....” (Jack! It’s Danny! Somethings hurt him!)

Danny flinches as he feels and hears loud reverberations across the floor. Flinching more as something thick and wet splashes on his exposed arms. He doesn’t even have to guess what it is, the texture of his ectoplasm having long been made familiar to him from years of injuries. But the contact on his skin makes all of him twitch and spasm, as if all his muscles are both trying to attack and flee. Or like they’re being eaten alive. 

“de...vi......of...f.........ge.....tur..n......it.....h..s...b....hur..tin.....Da...y” (turn the device off! Get it! Turn it off! That has to be what’s hurting Danny!)

Danny gargles and jerks his head/arms down as he feels himself being yanked off the floor. Making everything in his head swim and churn. The movement becomes too much, just after he feels spandex against his face, and vomits all over his arms. This time nothing is relieved by the action, instead, he feels his skin twitching, vibrating, and pins and needles fill his stomach. 

The sudden feeling of intense liquid cold dropping into his stomach and slugging up into his throat makes him go from painful fear to completely terrified. Opening his mouth and gasping, a scream trying to escape, as the cold slams into his spasming ribs and against a portion of his spine. Yanking his arms and hands down his face to paw at his chest. Faintly making out a faint crack and yelp over the static and, returned full force, ringing as he does so. 

He can tell that whoever is holding or carrying him is breathing a bit harder but, judging by how he’s sucking in air in short bursts, his own breathing is more worrying. Especially because he shouldn’t actually need to, but trying to stop it just leaves him choking and gasping harder; sending shooting pain and cold fire through his chest and throat. Danny flinches slightly as something touched his hair and seems to drag across it, making his hair stick to his skin; sticky and drenched. He can tell it’s not just ectoplasm making it wet, but sweat as well. Danny flinches every time the touch on his hair returns and repeats the same motion. 

“D...nn.....swe.....Da....y....yo...k......be.......o....ka..”. (Danny, sweetie. D-Danny, you’re o-okay. B-be okay)

Danny can feel he's being put down on something, judging by the sudden even pressure on his whole side. But the pressure against his ribs makes his chest feel as if it's wobbling and splitting at the seems. Pitching forward to get away from the sensation, head slamming into something soft. But the impact feels more like a hammer, making him whimper in pain. With all the quick motion and stars in his head making him throw up again. Sucking in a breath, as it feels more like liquid nitrogen than acidic saltwater. Which only makes him panic even more, he’s never lost core ectoplasm before but he’s got a horrible gut feeling that this is what it feels and tastes like. Sliding away from the pain and mess, only to fall or rise up, he can’t really tell. Promptly slamming his back into more ectoplasmic mess and his legs bending and tangling together painfully, though he’s pretty sure someone caught his head. 

Feeling something hook under his arms, lifting him up. But his chest and stomach just seem to sag, limp. His spine feels more like a soggy noodle than anything else. And the sloshing in his chest, thick water seemingly only being held back by skin, tells him his ribs are probably not solid right now. 

Wheezing as he feels his back come into contact with something again. Desperately grasping his hands onto whatever’s in front of him, to do his damnedest to hold himself up and away from the painful contact. 

“I........wh........do.....hur...t.....g......hi....wh....n........do”. (I think what we’re doing is just hurting him, what do we need to do!)

“Ho...d....d....wha....is.....wh...hap....ing..o....m”. (How did this-what do we-what is, what’s happening to him?!?)

Danny feels something hook under his arms again, but doesn’t get to think on it as his chest vibrates with sharp pains. Clenching his teeth and gasping, before slamming his arms over his chest. Promptly ripping them back away as the pain makes the world turn into nothing but waves of too bright colours. The only positive is the return of colours, other than just green, let’s him see the wiggles of blue and orange. But the comfort those colours bring quickly changes to fear, unsure if they mean family and safety and home and help or hunting and wounds and scalpels and pain and tears and nightmares and monster. Danny attempts at panic pleading and begging, only for him to just sputter and cough more before convulsing and forcefully curling in on himself. 

Seconds later releasing gargled giggles at the feeling of a massive adrenaline surge, as spots and sparkles dance in his eyes. Giving him enough energy to yank himself up to stand, teetering slightly and rolling his head around to the orange colour that is behind or possibly beside or maybe below him. Before pulling his hands in front of his mouth again, feeling thick wetness filling up his throat. Staggering as he catches vomit in his hands, at least half of it spilling through and over his fingers. Unable to restrain wet giggles at the lack of cold. 

“ls.......is....go...d....be...r...ay.....D..nn.....D......y”. (Please, it-there is so much, god, be okay Danny. Please Danny)

Danny steps forward, the grip under his arms following, only for his knees to give out again. Shooting his hands out erratically to catch himself again but, judging by everything going black, that didn’t work out too well. 

* * *

Danny comes to in, what he assumes to be, water, or at least he hopes it’s water. Twitching a finger which collides with something solid but clearly floating. With a groan, he cracks open his eyes, instantly panicked at the wavy sight of the lab ceiling. Flashes of nightmares rattling around his brain. Jerking himself up to realise that he is indeed in, and had been under, water; ice water, in a bathtub to be specific.

Attempting to speak, “wh-”, getting cut off by painful spasms in his throat. Wincing and closing his eyes before looking back at the water. But tilting his head down more to look at his chest, having seen some kind of metal in the corner of his vision. Going wide-eyed and starting to shake, at the sight of waterproof bandaging and at least fifteen metal rods sticking out of his chest. The fact that the rods were clearly covered in frost with patches of ice, only freaking him out more. 

Flinching at the sound of beeping and flinching again at the sound of footsteps. Instantly pulling his arms around his chest protectively, but not daring to bump the metal rods out of fear. 

Danny and his mom stare at each other, in doing so Danny realises everything is still waving around a bit and blurry. Danny turns his head a bit to look at his dad as he comes down, but that motion combined with him not holding onto the tub, makes him sway around a bit. Spurring his mom to rush over and grab his arm, Danny snapping his head over to her and thus making himself even more dizzy, as she speaks softly at him, “you’re okay, you’re okay. You need to stay under the water, sweetie. You, you need to”. Danny just blinks at her, one part hopeful she’s trying to help and one part terrified that this is some experiment. The terrified part easily winning out in his confused and still painfilled state. Trying to pull away from her but bumping one of the rods on the side of the tub. Jerkily curling in on himself and hissing in pain, as his chest feels like someone just stabbed him with jagged hot coals and then kicked him. 

His mom starts gently splashing up ice water onto his back as he starts coughing, before hissing again in pain and clutching his throat. Promptly yanking his hands away as that just makes it hurt more. Then making stars dance in his vision as he accidentally whacks the rods with his hands. 

Danny flinches as his dad grabs his hands and holds them still, “son, Danny, you’re hurting yourself. Your mom’s right, you need to lay back down”. Danny tenses, wanting to yank his hands away and just pull all of his body in on itself, but too afraid of more pain to do anything other than sit stiff. His dad shuffles in the silence, only the occasional splashing of water and ringing being heard by Danny. His dad clears his throat, “Danny-boy, we, we’re trying to help. Your body, it’s too hot for your...your core. Your chest needs to be cold, so you can reform. Get-get better, so you can be okay-y. Y-You’ll be okay”. Danny’s fear gets chipped away at the sight of his dad starting to crying. Flicking his eyes to his mom, who’s blinking a lot, before Danny nods faintly. Letting both of them lower him back under the water. 

Danny lays there, his dad rubbing his fingers over Danny’s submerged hand, while his mom’s running around. Danny scrunched up his eyebrows at a question, something to do with the brown something on her arm, but promptly loses it as he spends the next few hours, days, or maybe minutes, flicking in and out of consciousness. 

Danny picks up bits and pieces during his bouts of awake awareness, but it makes about as much sense as waking up underwater did. Sometimes his chest feels less like soup, sometimes it felt almost normal actually. Sometimes his parents were there, sometimes not. Most of what they said was muffled by the water but it was usually soothing or scientifically analytical. The first made him feel like he knew what the word “okay” meant but the second reminded him that he never got to just be “okay”, his life was pain and he was a freak. 

* * *

Danny comes to a bit more properly aware and pulls himself to sit up slowly. He’s never been more aware of water tension dragging on his hair and skin, than right now. Breathing hard and resting his chin on the side of the tub. Each breath making the metal creak and his chest spasm, the noise was enough to draw his dads’ attention apparently; as he appears in front of Danny and kneels down. “Hey buddy, I’m sorry but you need to stay under a bit longer. Is there something you need me to do?”

Danny wheezes, the feeling of pulling in air and it feeling like an old friend rather than a common occurrence, freaking him out a bit. He didn’t like forgoing such a basic human bodily function for so long. It made him feel wrong, different, less human. Danny looks down at the water and shakes his head, taking another breath even though it hurts. The sound of his dad shuffling makes Danny look at him again, “did, did you just want to breathe?”. Danny nods, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. 

Danny keeps his eyes on the water as he hears his dad stand up, before he starts pouring the ice water over Danny’s back and shoulders. “Then you just breathe, I’ll worry about your temperature, son”. Danny winds up passing out again like that, the last thing he hears is splashing water and the feeling of his dad’s hands cupping his head and hooked under one arm. 

* * *

The next time Danny properly wakes up, he’s laying on his side on some fabric. Twitching his fingers before scrunching the light grey fabric up in his fingers. The small motion making his fingers ache and nearly all of his joints pop. Speaking with his voice coming out harsh and scratchy, “now where?”. Flinching and jerking to sit up at his moms' sudden voice, making the world tilt and static crackle in his ears; many of his joints popping in the process and he’s pretty sure some of his bones creak very audibly.

“In bed and -woah. Sweetie be careful”. His mom grabs Danny’s arm gently, prompting Danny to look at her. Going wide-eyed at what is clearly a cast on her left arm, as she speaks while guiding him to lay back on his side, “your core, your ectoplasm, it’s still stabilising, still reforming, still healing. I don’t know just how much this is affecting you overall, but quick movements are only going to make it worse. You can move, just slowly. Okay, sweetie?”. 

Danny nods, croaking out, “your......arm?”. She nods and bites her lip before grabbing a chair and sitting down in front of Danny, Danny following her with his eyes all the while. Danny scrunches up his eyebrows as she pats at the cast, but the motion makes his skin feel like it’s being stabbed; so he just relaxes into a more neutral expression, as his mom replies. “It just got hit hard, it’s okay sweetie and it doesn’t really matter now. His mom shifts a bit and he has a feeling he’s not getting the whole story. He knows she didn’t have that earlier, before everything was pain, before they knew he was a thing. Danny hisses out, more so from emotional or mental pain, at realising it must have happened when he was all messed up, which means he must have done it. His mom clearly picking up on his realisation, “it doesn’t matter. A-accidents happen”. Danny glances down, “everyone......involved with me.....always gets........broken...sorry”. His mom pets down the side of his head, “s-sweetie no. You-you’re the broken one here. I, me, us, we-we’re the ones that-that need to be apologising”, she looks away and bites her lower lip. 

Danny can tell she doesn’t want to continue with this; and if anyone can get hiding and ignoring injuries, it was him, “and..what happened....after I....got down..stairs? Kind....of blurry. You...were in.....kitchen”.

His mom blinks and nods, “I-I’m not sure what happened between the stairs and you ending up under the table, but I’m pretty sure you t-threw up. You threw up a few times for sure”, she grimaces, “I heard you and came out. You-you were a complete mess. I didn’t know what to do, there was ectoplasm everywhere and I didn’t know why”, shaking her head, “when your father heard me shout, he came over and tossed the table away. I think you were trying to hide under it because you curled up then. I-I think you were, you were hiding from us...”. His mom looks at the floor as she trails off. Danny nods, feeling guilty, “y-yeah....didn’t, didn’t know....what you’d...do. A-and...hurt-”. His moms whisper cuts Danny off, “you looked like you were. And-and I don’t blame you for being scared. You were in pain and-and, god, we were causing it. And you, you’re, different, we knew that. We should have, should have known. We knew our stuff picked up on you, reacted to you. We-we should have known it could, it could hurt you”, Danny watches her squeeze her hands, seeing tear drops land on her gloves.

Danny can’t help but be compelled to soothe her, “okay....it’s..okay. How could you....have known. Was....hiding..it”. She shakes her head, “parents, we’re supposed to know. We’re supposed to be able to tell, to see past the lies. But we-we didn’t. And it, and that, it hurt you. Has been hurting you. T-there’s no way, no way none of our other, things, haven’t hurt you, hurt you too”. His mom cups his face, looking at him with tears streaming down her face, “I-we, I thought you were dying. That we, that we h-had killed you. Destroyed you. T-that we were, were going to l-lose you. All because we didn’t, didn’t see. Didn’t understand. Didn’t know”, his moms hand drops from Danny’s face as she stares down at the floor, Danny grabbing her wrist as she talks, even if the movement hurts his chest, “we wanted to destroy ghosts and we, we, we almost-”, his moms sob cuts her off as she puts her hands over her face. 

She sits with her lips pressed to the top of Danny’s hand for a while. Before pushing his arm back onto the bed and standing up. Whipping her eyes, “but you wanted to know what happened. After-after I got Jack to turn it off, you stood up off the couch”, shaking her head, “earlier I had tried laying you down on it, the couch, but I think-think that just hurt you more”, sitting back down and meeting Danny’s eyes, “then you started making this strangled gargling sound a-and passed out”, his mom looks away, and Danny has a feeling she’s trying to restrain more sobbing. Danny tries to chuckle but just winds up wheezing in pain and coughing.

“Sweetie? You okay? This, this isn’t too much? Is it?”. 

Danny shakes his head slowly, “‘m fine. Just, the....sound, was...I think, think I....was....giggling. Adrenaline surge....those can...make me a bit.....giddy and...silly”. 

His mom slumps back down into the chair, “you were, were laughing? In pain and laughing?”, she shakes her head, “that-that’s not important. After you...passed out, Jack carried you down to the lab. We had to, had to find out why. What happened, why were you hurting and all the, ectoplasm. A-and the cold blue ectoplasm worried us even more. Never, never seen that before”. 

Danny nods, knowing he really had been leaking core ectoplasm was completely horrifying, that meant he really could have died/been destroyed. Even he couldn’t survive his core being completely destroyed or losing all its ectoplasm, “core. But I...think you know....that”. His mom nods and looks at his chest, “ice core. We assumed. When we tested the regular ectoplasm and found it was sentient, true ghost ectoplasm. We didn’t consider what that meant, what that meant you were or could be. We just-just fixed you”. Danny can’t help his chest figuratively, and literally which hurt, swelling over her telling him that. That they didn’t even give a damn what he was or wasn’t, that they just wanted him to be okay. And that they’d put aside their scientific curiosity to help him. But now that the major crisis was over, would they feel different? Even if they didn’t want him destroyed, would he still be a thing in their eyes? 

His mom rubs at her eyes again and looks at the floor, “the thing, the invention we were working on, had just-just started up. It was meant to, did, it did, disrupt the three base nuclei in ectoplasm and-and make it recognise each other as food. Make it, cannibalise, each other, itself. But also make the ectoplasmic cell walls, e-ectophobic. Repelling itself. Your core, it-it boiled the core shell. Your core ectoplasm tried to, tried to cool it down but that wouldn’t, couldn’t, work. So it, it tried to escape. The boiling, it melted your bones but your skin, it froze up. So much so that nothing could get out. It-that, it saved you”. So he had been simultaneously boiling and freezing alive, add in melting, corroding and auto cannibalism. And now he was being impaled. 

Danny pales a bit realising she had misinterpreted something. But he knew what his core overacting felt like, what freezing over felt like, shaking his head with careful slowness, “no, no, the boiling....that saved me. Core would have....made popsicle....of me. Would have....needed...de-icing chamber”. 

“But you were too hot? It took four hours to cool you down enough for your core ectoplasm to start reforming?”.

“Didn’t say.....boiling was..good. Just...hot and cold is better....than just extreme cold. Was too cold....then...too warm. Or first too warm? Hard to...say”. 

She nods, “okay, that’s okay. You’re equalised now. We made this serum, that reversed everything, reversed the damage done, made it stronger even. The nuclei and bonds. Well, it did on our samples, on you it just seemed to make your ectoplasm multiply faster. Which ectoplasm shouldn’t even do in the first place”, shaking her head, “that-that’s not important. So it made your body produce more ectoplasm quicker than it was being destroyed, till the machines frequency waves were nullified. Jack, he also made some bath salts; for the water you were in. To numb the pain”. Danny blinks, all that had been with the pain being numbed? Part of him wants to thank his dad, the other part is just terrified they messed up his body. Messing with his cells on such a deep level, was both horrifying in that it made him feel like an experiment and because of what messing with his body, his core especially, could change him into. Danny nods, “and....when I woke up? In the....water...was I still....boiling? And the....rods?”. 

His mom pats at his hand, “you were too hot, what counts as a fever for you, I guess. It was making it impossible for your core shell to thicken and solidify. And whenever your temp got too high, it would start activating and using up whatever core ectoplasm you’d managed to reform”, she shuffles and glances warily at the rods, “you need the poles to stabilise and help shape the core shell. It kept deforming or trying to reform in the wrong spot, then collapsing in on itself. I-I figured out where it was supposed to be, by-by where was the most...damaged”. 

Danny shivers, every time his core had reformed was probably a roll of a twenty-sided die, regarding what would happen to him. But the sheer amount of work and time they would have had to put into making this rod, pole, set up was a bit comforting, “so, sort of...like a cast.....or splint”.

Both his mom and him flinch, as his dad walks in, holding soup. His face lighting up at the sight of Danny, “you’re up! Um, soup?”. Danny shakes his head slowly, pretty sure that anything really warm or cold was probably a bad idea. Food, in general, was probably a bad idea, considering how messed up his neck currently felt and how his stomach had felt. Touching his throat gingerly, even the slight pressure against it felt like kicking a bruise, with a steel-toed boot. His mom puts her hands on her hips, “Jack, that’s much too warm for him”. 

“Oh right, um, sorry Danny-boy”, Danny blinks, slightly soothed at his dad calling him that. Though he still looks away from his dad, “it’s....fine”. Danny can hear his dad pull up a chair next to his mom, “feeling better?”.

Danny looks down at his chest, his bones were proper bones again and he didn’t feel like someone had stuffed him with liquid nitrogen or was vibrating all his veins. But he was weak, in pain more pain than he was used to anyway, and had horrible balance. Or at least he assumes he did, based on how things would swirl or tilt if he moved his eyes or head. That wasn’t even mentioning the ringing and occasional static, “I’m...better. More...stable I guess. Not good or....okay, though”. His dad squeezes his shoulder lightly, “that’s expected. You really went through the wringer but like any Fenton, you come out stronger”. His mom winces before Danny speaks, “I’ll check out my.....blood work, before I....agree”. His dad tilts his head sideways slightly, “little funny to call it that, since there’s no blood. Ghosts don’t have that, but that’s okay. You’re okay, so it’s okay”.

Danny instantly mentally panics, damn near stabbing himself in the face with his nails, in his haste to nip his teeth through the skin on his finger. Making damn sure he actually had his blood. Sighing happily at the forming red droplet, grumbling as his parents gape at him, “don’t....scare me..like that. I...have blood”. Showing them his finger, though a bit concerned that it’s taking so long to heal. His dad rubs Danny’s finger, “so you do”. His mom shakes her head, “that-that’s not important right now. If there’s something you want us to check we can. Blood or, ectoplasm”. Danny shuffles a bit on the bed, making sure not to jostle the poles in the process, “not yet. Once I’m recovered...I need to know if.....my equilibrium is the same..... Still stable”.

Danny looks around, kind of terrified of explaining this. He doesn’t want to be an experiment, doesn’t want to be more freaky to them. He was certainly already wrong in their eyes, apparently still Danny but they couldn’t truly be okay having a ghost for family. They’ve said as much with both words and actions, and he was even more of an abomination. “I know what...you guys think. Of me. What I...am. But, I’m not, not all.....ghost. Just......just half”. His mom grabs his hand, “sweetie, you’re Danny. That’s all that matters. You don’t need to defend yourself. Not to and-and n-not from us”. His dad smiles, “besides, if any family ought to have ghostly family, it’s us. Any amount of ghostly, even if it’s more than just the ectocontamination we used to think it was”.

“But...you guys hate.....ghosts”.

His dad looks at the floor and his mom squeezes her hands. His dad shakes himself and pats Danny’s shoulder, “family’s family. A Fenton’s a Fenton. Blood, ectoplasm or both. Always”. His mom nods, tearing up again, “you-you’re our son, sweetie. If anyone should be-be afraid of being h-hated, it’s us. God, the things we’ve put-put in your head. About w-what you are. And now this”, she shakes her head, “we’ve been wrong plenty in life. But this, this was w-what we were most wrong about”. Danny nods, not really sure how much he really believes that, or if they’re just making some exclusion for him. They didn’t even really understand what he was, how freaky he was. But he’s feeling a bit too exhausted to think on that. Trying to stifle a yawn, making his dad chuckle, “seems you need to rest more, stabilise and reform more”. While his mom ruffles his hair, “don’t stay up just to talk. Rest”. Danny grumbles but can’t help agreeing. 

* * *

Danny wakes up with a start, winces and sits up. Everything ached and his chest constricted every time his heart beat; then it would expand with his cores pulse, with a feeling of cold fire licking at his ribs and lungs; making him cough out plumes of cold air and he could actually hear the creaking of solid rib bones, as his core released waves of cold power. Lightly placing a hand on one of the poles, his core was actually pushing against and vibrating them slightly; which hurt. Not to mention they were easily cold enough to burn a regular human. Technically, he could just take them out himself, but he didn’t really know what they were or how they were anchored into him, especially in such a way as to be able to touch his core even while human. Plus he’d probably disturb his parents, if he hadn’t already. And he knew he had already hurt them, injured his mom. Even if she wouldn’t admit it was him, him hardly being in his right mind didn’t matter, everything his fingers touched broke. And the people around him would always just be waiting till the next time he messed them up. The least he could do, was get better now so they wouldn’t feel bad.

Cautiously putting his feet on the lab floor, before standing only for his dad to startle him. “I’m glad to see you standing! But are you sure that’s okay to be doing, son?”. Danny takes a few steps, his balance was still shot but it wasn’t the most disorienting thing he’s walked around with, “I heal fast. Um the, uh, core braces are doing more harm than good now”. His dad nods, “that’s one thing I could have done without ever needing a use or name for. I’ll get Mads”. Danny fully agrees. 

“I’m sure you’re not fully reformed sweetie”. Danny shrugs, it’s rare that he was ever fully healed. Always carrying some injury or another, “I’m fine”. His mom shakes her head and points for Danny to sit back down, “it’s only been two days. You’re not fine, especially with how your skin looks”. Danny blinks a bit before lifting up an arm, it looked as if his veins had literally bruised him. Drawing spidering lines of ugly deep purple and even black the higher up his arm he looked. The rest of the skin being a sickly green-yellow, the sight making him flinch a bit at how it looked very ghostly. But it was obviously more bruising, for once he was kind of glad for all his experience with being battered and bruised. Though his parents probably just thought that was his ghost skin colour or something, especially since normal humans would get a more pale shade of green. Tilting his head down to look at his chest, he’s just assuming his parents removed the bandaging while he was asleep, his chest is pretty well entirely black and his veins are puffed out; there’s slightly more purple tinted colouration around the puncture holes, overall it was definitely not pretty. Though it wasn’t as bad as his accident, which had charred all his skin black and crunchy; even the insides of his veins, which had all exploded thusly exposing the insides. 

Danny clears his throat, testing it for any discomfort or pain, as he sits down, “yeah, that’s some nasty bruising. So definitely not a hundred percent. But I’m fine”. His mom shakes her head and sits back down in one of the chairs in front of Danny, “Jack tells me you said you needed these out?”.

Danny looks at his chest again and nods, “pushing against my core, like someone squeezing your wrist a fair bit too tight. And the vibrating isn’t pleasant”. Danny grabs one of the poles lightly, feeling it pulse and vibrate. His mom tentatively following suit before frowning, “you’re right. I didn’t think cores could repair so quickly”. Danny looks down at the floor, it was just something else that made him a freak, “they don’t. Mine does. It’s a...halfa thing”. His dad sits down in a chair, “halfa?”, Danny looks at him and squints, worried about whether he’s talking to Jack the scientist or Jack the father. His mom shuffles, “we need to know, know for your health. To make sure you really are ok, better, healthy. And to, to make sure this never happens again”.

Danny nods weakly and looks at the floor again, “it’s just, it won’t really, there’s not”, shaking his head, “halfas, it’s sort of weird. They’re, we’re, strange. Rare, unique...freaky, sort of considered abominations. There’s not, like, any-”. His mom cuts him off by squeezing his hand, which he squeezes his eyes shut over, while his dad speaks, “I don’t care what anyone has said, or what we’ve said, you are not a monster, son. Not an abomination”. Danny faintly mutters, “you can’t possibly mean that”.

Resulting in his mom squeezing his hand again, “sweetie, I’m going to have to restrain Jack so he doesn’t try hugging you. He’s right, there’s nothing wrong with strange or even freaky, but no matter how unusual, this ‘halfa’ thing is, it is not and you are not, something abominable. Regardless of what ‘halfa’ means, it’s actions not physiology that make abominable monsters”, Danny flicks his eyes up and meets his moms, who smiles before sighing sadly and speaking again, “I know the beliefs we held, that I wish we never had now, called ghosts monsters but all the actions we ever saw from them were malicious. So we made generalisations, but... You’re not malicious, so obviously ghosts as a whole can’t be monsters. There’s just a lot of bad ones. So it’s actions, what they do, not what they are”. Danny’s tempted to call bullshit since they called Phantom a monster but, to those not in the known, some of his actions were viewed as malicious. That just serves to remind him of just how much harm he’s capable of, how he could always be the worst monster of them all.

Shivering and suppressing a wince at one of the poles jarring his core, “we shouldn’t exist. Halfas, we should be impossible. Being like this, it’s a spit in the face of nature”, Danny shakes his head and looks at the floor again, “halfas, hybrids. Half-human and half-ghost. Human and ghost. Not human, not ghost. Both, neither. Alive and dead. Not alive, not dead. Freaks of nature”, Danny scoffs, “I died but not fully. A job done only partway”. Danny flicks his eyes towards his parents, easily picking up on the question they have but don’t want to ask, “I don't mind talking about it; in general anyway. Electrocution, about four billion volts, while the Zone opened up on and in me”. Danny fiddles with fingers as they both cringe. His mom sucks in a breath, “the portal, that you said gave you a little shock”. Danny looks at the floor and nods, “my fault, so it’s whatever. A self-inflected screw-up. No longer fitting in or accepted in either worlds, and never really able to be. A Ghost able to be human, so ghosts hunt me; out of jealousy or hate and for being an affront to nature. A human with ghost powers, so humans hunt me; out of the same. Or they would if they knew”.

His mom breathes out, “Danny...”. While his dad glares at the ground, gritting out, “you’re being hunted”. 

Danny nods, still not looking up, after all this was all his fault, “most ghosts that come here, come here for me. Some just to harass, some just to hurt. One wants me in jail for the crime of existing, one wants me to destroy myself, one wants to skin me and put my pelt at the foot of his bed”. Danny shrugs a bit, “some are nice and friendly though. There’s a good six hundred who worship me...they saved me once too”. His mom cups his face and makes him look at her, eyes clearly watering, “sweetie, Danny, t-that’s horrible. You should have-we would, will, protect you. This, what you are shouldn’t matter. To us, you, you’re Danny all the same. This-no one is making you their trophy prize”. Danny shrugs and looks down again, “it’s what it is. I protect myself fine, it’s my problem. The threats...they’re sort of empty anyway. Well, more like they know they can’t actually achieve it. I’m almost indestructible; you, that machine, what it did, that’s the only thing that might kill and destroy me. A self destruct machine for anything with ectoplasm, if I, if I had been a full ghost I would have never even made it to the stairs”. 

She shakes her head, “you’re a child. You shouldn’t have died. You shouldn’t, shouldn’t have to protect yourself like that. And we-we will destroy that machine. We can’t hav-”. Danny cuts her off, “don’t”. Both his parents speak in unison, “what?”. With his dad shaking his head, “son, Danny-boy, why? Why would you want us to keep something so dangerous to you? That’s hurt you so badly?”. Danny frowns, “that, that’s the only thing I’ve ever heard of or encountered that could end a halfa. Keep it in case, in case the world needs to be protected from....from a halfa”. 

His mom stutters, “i-in case a b-bad one shows up? R-right? Not-not against you”. Danny frowns, “there has only so far been three, including me. All three are around now. One, the oldest one, he’s kind of...insane. Cruel and manipulative, if it benefited him, he can and would kill or destroy anyone. But he’s, he’s weak. Barely an eight on the scale. The youngest, she can’t use much of her powers, or she’ll destroy herself. Even if she’s a fourteen”. Danny sighs and looks at them, “the older might be a threat someday but...yes, yes it’s to use against me. Preferably not, but things hap-”. Danny can’t help but feel a bit jarred and flinch slightly when his dad cuts him off, “no, how could you possibly want someone to try to destroy you? What could make you think that-”. His mom gasps, “sweetie no, I-I know what we’ve said, said about ghosts but you’re not inherently bad because of this. You couldn’t, god, you’d never hurt people, you’d never be a threat”.

Danny frowns, he was a threat already. His existence was wrong, a threat to the social stability of both worlds purely by existing. And his power, even unused, was like letting a bomb walk around without any fail safes. Danny knew the monster he could be, would have been. Probably will be. His obsession would go bad, his power would corrupt him, his core could, Danny flinches and looks quickly to the ground, that could have happened today, his core could be polluted. There are so many ways he could go wrong that it simply wasn’t possible that he never would. Face hot with shame and wincing again from his chest, “you have no idea how wrong you are. My power, me, I’m a twenty-eight. I can’t even count the number of ways I could go bad and I, I would, everything would be destroyed. It’s....it’s happened once already. I’ll always be a monster in the making. And I would use that thing on myself, without question, and I’m the one who knows what that felt like”. 

Danny shakes his head and puts on a smile before looking back up to his mom, “um, anyway. Could we, get these out?”. She nods weakly and gets up, clearly walking robotically and she probably doesn’t really want to think at the moment. Maybe she gets it, the only one she was ever really right in calling a freak or monster, was him, was Phantom. That’s what he was and would be. He’s just the monster the world seemed to need, until the day he became the real monster to be defeated by a real hero; not some freak abomination foolishly trying to starve off and ignore the inevitable. No, he was just the blueprint of the monster of monsters. All he could do is hope the good he did now, could make up for all the hurt he’s caused and will cause. His dad mutters, “you’re not a monster and you never will be. You’ll always be Danny, always be my son”. His dad squeezes his shoulder but Danny just looks at the floor, the misplaced hope and belief in him almost hurt more than the hate and threats flung at Phantom. 

His mom sits down, clearly a bit awkward, and holds up what looks like a shotgun sized heat cannon, “the, the poles have little spines that a-are hooked in and around your...core. This, goes over the exposed end of the poles and send, sends out a little pulse, de-solidifying the spines. Then we just have to, have to pull them out”. Danny nods, it’s a good thing he didn’t try just yanking them out. The amount of damage that would have done, not too mention the pain. His dad gets up and stands behind Danny, grabbing his shoulders strongly, “this is probably going to hurt, son. Sorry”.

Danny nods, “expected. They’re pretty much impaling my chest and impaling my core”. Apparently, neither of them found his words comforting, as his dad squeezes Danny’s shoulders a bit and his mom winces. With her muttering, “sorry sweetie”, before inserting the first pole into the device. Danny hisses, core spasming enough that everyone could easily see the other poles wiggle, as he feels something like barbed fangs sliding out of his core. His mom puts the device over the next pole, “you good to keep going?”. Danny nods, forcing a smile, while trying to stop his skin from twitching; spasms from his core shooting out over his whole body. But he knew from experience that it really was better not to drag this kind of stuff out. 

It’s slow going and she insists on giving him a break every five poles, but after about an hour and a half, all the spines had been deactivated. 

Danny rubs the centre of his chest, avoiding the poles, his freshly healed core feeling rather abused and overworked. He couldn’t hide that either, as his core spasming so much had drastically dropped both his temperature and the labs. Danny can feel his dads' hands shiver, so he mutters, “sorry about the cold”. 

“Nonsense, so long as this isn’t destabilising your core, it’s not a problem Danny-boy”, his dad chuckles slightly, “though I am glad for my gloves”. Danny chuckles too, at least it seemed like they didn’t fear him. 

His mom puts the device back on the table, before coming back and placing one hand on the skin around one of the poles, grabbing the pole gently with the other hand. Danny wants to scold her about using her injured arm, but he knows she won’t hear of it. So instead, Danny grips the bed and nods as she asks, “you ready?”. Danny’s the only one who doesn’t wince as she pulls it out, this part was just standard impalement for Danny; just another Sunday. His mom squints at him, “you fine?”. 

“Yup”, Danny pops the ‘p’ for some fake cheeriness. While his mom chews on her lip a bit but continues. This time Danny does flinch, as his mom had pretty well whacked his core with the end of the pole. His dad squeezes Danny’s shoulder while his mom cringes, seeing the other poles twitch from his core objecting to being hit. Danny asks, “uh, maybe remove them a bit straighter”. She nods, “I hit your core, didn’t I”. At Danny’s nod she apologies, which he waves off. 

Danny can tell his mom’s being a bit more cautious with the rest of them and thankfully, she only taps his core two more times. 

His mom sighs, sitting down again and rubbing at her cast. Which just makes Danny feel guilty again, even horribly injured he was still causing others pain and problems. Danny opts instead to watch his dad wrap the core brace up in cloth to store away, sighing, “I hope those never need to be used again”. Both of them respond near-instantly, “agreed”. 

**End.**


End file.
